


What the Heart Wants

by 1917farmgirl



Series: Heart of Camelot [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Golden Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1917farmgirl/pseuds/1917farmgirl
Summary: Merlin is happy, but he's also human, and sometimes he can't help but think of what he's given up and wonder at what might have been.Sequel to "In a Heartbeat."  Banner by 1917farmgirl.





	What the Heart Wants

**What the Heart Wants**

**Author’s Note:**  
This little one-shot is set in the same AU world as my story, “In a Heartbeat.” So if you’re wondering how Arthur found out about Merlin’s magic, read that.

Thanks to Missy for the amazing title and appreciated “aww-ing” as I made her read this. 

*****

“Guinevere?” Arthur called, sticking his head into their chambers, an almost chagrined look on his face. “Could you join me in Council this afternoon? I would value your advice this day.”

Merlin, tidying the table after the royals’ noontime meal, glanced over at where Gwen sat before the fire, cradling the sleeping form of the two-month-old prince.

“I know you haven’t officially returned yet, and I hate to drag you away,” Arthur continued as he stepped back into the room. A knock had sounded earlier, just as Merlin started to clear the dishes, and Leon had asked for Arthur to confer in the corridor. Now the king was returning, looking slightly troubled.

“Of course, Arthur,” Gwen said, obviously reading the same signs as Merlin. “But I’ve just given Maggie the afternoon off and…” She gestured helplessly to the sleeping baby.

Arthur’s face fell slightly, though only those who knew him well would notice, and Merlin found himself stepping forward.

“I could watch the prince, sire,” he spoke up to his friends.

Arthur laughed. “You, Merlin?” he scoffed, turning to face his servant.

“What?” he shot back, crossing his arms. “Don’t you trust me?”

“To stand beside me and magically obliterate monsters? Yes. To mind my son without either of you dying? Not at all.”

“Arthur!” Gwen cried exasperatedly, glaring at her husband.

“What do you know about taking care of a babe anyway?” the king teased, ignoring his wife.

“More than you, Arthur. Peasant, remember?”

Suddenly, Arthur sobered, eyeing his friend as if remembering things he often forgot.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Gwen said, interrupting the bickering of king and servant with practiced ease as she stood. “I know you and Amhar will both be fine.” Tenderly, she slipped her precious bundle into Merlin’s arms with a warm smile. “You know where everything is and of course you can send someone for me if you need to.” She gave him a sisterly kiss on the cheek and then left the room.

“Don’t corrupt my son with your girlish ways,” Arthur said, throwing Merlin a mock glare.

Merlin just rolled his eyes and the king laughed before following his wife from the room.

As the door shut, silence descended on the royal chambers, and for a moment Merlin just stood there, holding his breath. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected – the infant to awake and start wailing the moment his mother was gone, or maybe that his innate clumsiness would overtake him and he’d spontaneously drop the baby. But…nothing happened. Amhar’s little eyes stayed closed in relaxed sleep, not one bit worried that he’d just been passed from his parents to their servant.

And Merlin – Merlin just stared at him, enraptured.

This was hardly the first time he’d held the usually squirming bundle of princely joy – Gwen had named him an official uncle and Arthur hadn’t contradicted, which was tantamount to a royal proclamation when it came to the king and “girly” emotions. But it was the first time he’d done it on his own, alone in the room, just the babe and himself. And he suddenly found himself unable to look away.

Without conscious thought, Merlin’s feet steered him away from the table and his chores and over to the chair by the fire, his eyes never once leaving the baby’s face as he lowered himself into the seat.

Amhar’s small hands were curled loosely on his chest, his eyes closed and his expression content. Transfixed, Merlin shifted the infant in his lap so he could free one hand then lightly traced the little one’s smooth skin, marveling at his tiny, button nose, pink lips, and dark curls. Emotions he’d never expected washed through him – overwhelming love and a desire to protect the innocence in his arms. Happiness and gratitude for the little life he held. 

And – suddenly and without warning – a deep sense of sadness and pain.

Merlin had never been a seer – that wasn’t one of his gifts and that was fine with him. Knowing the future, seeing what was to come, was a horrible burden. But as he sat there by Arthur’s fire holding his baby son, Merlin knew in a way that he couldn’t explain but also couldn’t deny that this would never be him.

He would never be a father – never hold a babe in his arms that had his own eyes and his own ears and feel his heart burst with unimaginable joy and love.

He’d been given many gifts – but this was not to be one of them.

Amhar shifted and curled his tiny fist around Merlin’s finger without waking and the warlock couldn’t help a small smile, though it was mixed with sorrow as his eyes filled.

Gazing at the sleeping prince, Merlin’s mind wandered, thoughts of laying the baby in his cradle and finishing his chores forgotten as he allowed himself to get lost in a rare moment of melancholy.

He saw Freya, whole and happy and free, standing in the doorway of a neat cottage, a wiggling baby on her hip as she waited to greet him with a kiss and his heart both soared and broke at the reminder of what might have been but never would. 

He saw Arthur and the knights, his friends and brothers, married and content with squealing broods that he adored as any favorite uncle should, but that were never quite his own.

He saw life moving onward, forward, passing him as he stood in his chosen and stationary place – always alone.

And with only a sleepy, little prince to act as witness, Merlin allowed himself to mourn as silent tears rolled down his cheeks and the baby sighed peacefully in his arms.

“Merlin?”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he looked up into the worried eyes of his king, the strange moment broken as the other man pulled a second chair close. Merlin was shocked to realize he’d lost track of the passage of time, that he hadn’t even noticed Arthur’s return.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, wiping at his face with his shoulders and making to stand, to return Amhar to his father. “The dishes and laundry… I should have – but I just lost track and…”

“Merlin,” Arthur said in a firm but quiet voice that cut through his rambling like a knife through butter, “sit down.”

Merlin sank back into the chair, the baby still in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” his friend prodded, honest concern coloring his eyes.

“Where’s Gwen?” Merlin deflected, stalling as he looked around for the queen.

“Attending to some needs for the household. Don’t change the subject,” Arthur said softly, his eyes boring into Merlin’s in the way that used to make him squirm. “What’s troubling you?”

Merlin sighed. It wasn’t something he wanted to share with his king and his friend, this pain – but since the day he’d revealed his most guarded secret to Arthur, laid his soul bare, he’d vowed there would be no more lies.

“It’s just…hard sometimes,” he muttered, shrugging and avoiding Arthur’s gaze by looking at the prince who was starting to wake.

“To hold a babe?” Arthur asked, genuinely puzzled.

Merlin smiled, glad that several years of being a great king hadn’t erased all of the goofy, oblivious prince who was his best friend. “No,” he said gently, watching as Amhar’s eyes opened and he stared calmly back. “To see you holding this babe.” He finally tore his eyes away from the infant and back to his friend, his smile fading. “To see you, and Gwen, and him and to know that I won’t ever…” He trailed off, stopping before his voice could break and completely give himself away.

Arthur sighed, his face softening with understanding and a large amount of sorrow for his friend. “Merlin, I know that you and Freya…your memories are still very…raw…and –” He stopped – the man who could inspire troops to victory when all hope was lost stumbling over his words when emotions were involved. But Merlin loved him all the more for the attempt. 

“What I’m trying to say, Merlin,” Arthur said, leaning forward with elbows on his knees, “is that just because your heart isn’t ready for it now doesn’t mean the time will never come for you to fall in love again. That you won’t have all of this for yourself.”

But Merlin was shaking his head before Arthur had even finished, a few soft tears falling once more as he bounced the now wiggling baby. “No, Arthur. It’s just…I just know. It’s like, how there must always be a balance?”

Arthur nodded hesitantly.

“I’ve tipped it too far too many times, defied the odds, defied destiny. It has to take from somewhere to keep that balance.” With a resigned shrug, he wiped his cheeks dry and then stood, carefully depositing Amhar into Arthur’s arms. Merlin stepped away, back to his neglected chores, but not before he caught the smile that instantly lit the little prince’s face as he saw his father.

The servant felt Arthur’s eyes on him as he gathered the remnants of the long-over meal onto a tray, then moved about the chambers stuffing dirty clothes and linens into the basket, but he didn’t turn around and didn’t pause. Finally, the king spoke again.

“So, you’re saying that our happy ending came at the expense of your own?” he asked, sounding sad and angry and worried all at once.

Merlin stilled, finally looking back at his friend, and his heart ached at the hurt he saw on Arthur’s face.

“No, Arthur,” he said gently, setting the basket on the table and leaning his hip against the wooden edge. “I never said I wasn’t happy. I am – very happy. I just can’t help but sometimes…wonder, you know?”

Arthur nodded, bringing Amhar up to his knee and bouncing the baby carefully, making him giggle.

“Were you aware that George has a sister?” Arthur suddenly asked, giving Merlin a wicked smile. “I hear they’re very alike. Guinevere’s been talking about introducing you two…”

Merlin’s jaw dropped – aghast. “She wouldn’t!” 

Arthur laughed. “No, she wouldn’t. Though she does worry about you. We all do.”

“I’m fine, Arthur,” Merlin said, going back to his work. He stacked the tray with the used dishes precariously on top of the basket of dirty clothes and picked it all up, moving over to toe open the chamber doors.

“Merlin?” 

Arthur’s voice stopped him and he glanced back up, his eyebrows raised.

“Do you ever regret it? The things you’ve done, what you’ve sacrificed and given up to give us all of –” he gestured to the baby and the whole room full of royal but still domestic bliss “– this?”

Merlin smiled – a warm, firm, _real_ smile. “Never,” he said with all the conviction of his heart before he gave his king a tiny bow and slipped from the room.


End file.
